


Hungrily

by Paraxdisepink



Category: due South
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paraxdisepink/pseuds/Paraxdisepink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Ray K thinks Fraser is just too much for him, Fraser has to go and mention cannibalism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungrily

Police work in a den of freaks like Chicago had a way of wearing you down by the end of the day. Police work with a freak like Fraser fucking exhausted you after a couple of hours. So did sex – in a good way. And then there was the crazy shit Fraser said afterwards, while you lay there in the dark half dead to the world. Sometimes Ray thought it was going to come to a choice between day Fraser and night Fraser, because he was pretty sure keeping both around would send him into some kind of catatonic collapse eventually.

Today, it was Russian-speaking carjackers, which they didn’t happen to spot until after Fraser pointed out the GTO wouldn’t make it another block without stopping for gas, and that meant they spotted them in the middle of an argument about why Ray let the tank get so low and what if – what if some especially _nefarious_ criminal just happened to cross their path while they were unable to pursue. Which was exactly what happened.

Moments like that, it sucked when Fraser was right. It sucked worse than your parents being right, than Dewey being right. But letting the bad guys walk right past you knowing you couldn’t do a damn thing besides shoot and dance the you’re-in-deep-shit cha-cha with I.A. later sucked worse. So Ray turned to Fraser for another one of those bright superhero ideas, and the next half hour felt like one big long circus trick.

Fraser flagged down some highway patrol lady probably on her way to a bathroom break, tipped his hat and started babbling about justice and keeping the city safe, and two minutes later he had her motorcycle revved up and was telling Ray to hop on. So Ray hopped on and they took off after the Russian guys, his arm around Fraser’s chest and his other hand on his gun. Fraser went the speed limit, of course, and Ray yelled at him to step on it because someone was getting a kick in the head by the end of the day and if they didn’t catch the bad guys it was going to be him, and when that didn’t work Ray yelled at Fraser to pull over so they could switch places because obviously Fraser knew dick about driving a bike. Canadians didn’t know how to drive anything.

When Fraser finally did speed up Ray ended up yelling that he was going to get both of them killed if he didn’t watch it with the sharp turns, and Fraser just smiled at him over his shoulder and said, “It’s not all that different from being on horseback, Ray. Just hold on.” 

Ray held on, hoping to God no one saw him clinging to Fraser like some girl-next-door chick running off with her tough-guy boyfriend in a bad movie. Last he checked, things were the other way around.

They busted the bad guys in the middle of a crowded McDonalds. One of them pulled a gun and tried to start a hostage mess, but Fraser just stepped in front of him and did his “now, son, you really don’t want to do this” dance – in Russian – while Ray went for the universal language of ass-kicking before the Mountie got a bullet in him. He flung himself over a table and rushed the guy from behind while Fraser had him distracted, and this time when he got the cuffs on the perp all the grateful smiles from the customers’ were for him, which made Ray feel pretty good. And Fraser just stood there, looking at him. Hungrily.

So Ray came home tired, ready to lie down in front of the TV and fall asleep in his clothes. Fraser on the other hand came home primed and horny as fuck. He got his arms around Ray the minute they got in the door, shoved his tongue in Ray’s mouth, mumbled something about being presumptuous, and maneuvered them right into the bedroom.

Ray stared up at him he like was half drugged when Fraser pushed him down on the bed, wriggling his skinny ass for Fraser to hurry the hell up and pull his jeans off him. And all of a sudden Fraser’s hands were everywhere, pulling off boots, jeans, shirt, his own uniform. Everything. Sex was the one instance where Fraser didn’t care about the speed limit and Ray was all too happy to let him do the driving, opening his arms and his legs and his mouth for more of Fraser’s tongue when he crawled up naked on top of him. And when Fraser had enough kissing and finally turned him over, he slid down on his elbows, put his cheek against Ray’s shoulder blade and clutched him real close while he got so deep inside him and got them both so hot they should have fused together.

Afterwards, Ray thought about catching his breath and maybe twisting around to have some more fun with Fraser’s mouth, but his now jellified muscles wouldn’t cooperate so he came up with the better idea of burying his face in the pillow and falling asleep in his own sweat and come with Fraser slumped over his back, still inside him. That felt good. Warm. Relaxing after a hard day. Normal.

Sort of.

But he woke up a little bit later to some warm wet thing nibbling in the crease where his butt cheek met the back of his thigh, which was not normal at all and snapped him right out of a dead sleep. For one paralyzingly freaky moment Ray thought it was Dief going to town on him, until he squirmed away from the wetness and didn’t feel any fur. He felt a hand, grabbing him by the hip to steady him while the warm wet thing followed the curve of his ass upward until something was pressing really light kisses to the small of his back. 

Ray’s body went tight and he trembled with how fucking good it felt. He groaned into the pillow, a hot surge shooting through his cock, and next thing he knew he was fumbling under the blankets for Fraser’s hand, smiling when those big warm Mountie fingers curled around his.

“Couldn’t just wake me up with a blow job like a normal person could you, Fraser?” He sounded drowsy, like he’d just come out of a coma, which Ray felt like he had.

Fraser snorted, a little puff of air stinging Ray’s hip. “How do you know I wasn’t getting there?” He asked, sliding up behind Ray and leaning over him on an elbow. 

Ray rolled onto his back. He couldn’t see much but the outline of Fraser in the dark, but he was pretty sure Fraser was smirking down at him for some unknown Canadian reason. Ray let that pass, just this once.

“Because you’re too busy trying to eat me.”

“Eat you . . .” Fraser must have been real tired, because he actually started giving the idea some thought. “Well I do have a certain desire to imbibe you, Ray. Cannibalize you, if you will. Take you into me.”

Ray liked the last part. “So bend over.”

“Anytime, Ray, but that wouldn’t be the same thing at all.”

“Blow me, then.”

“My pleasure, Ray, but that wouldn’t count. Traditionally speaking you’d have to be dead first.”

Jesus. Fraser knew way too much about this. When some guy went around nibbling your butt you had to start worrying, especially when he was from a part of the world where they probably ate people all the damn time when the snowstorms got bad enough. And Ray was tired enough that he suddenly couldn’t help wondering whether Fraser had ever eaten anyone. The guy sure had a lot of trapped-in-a-blizzard-for-days-on-end stories, and in the movies they always started with the butt meat. 

Ray swallowed. “Fraser, you’re weirding me out here.”

Fraser planted a big hand on his chest and rubbed a little, but Ray got that it was really to hold him down. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ray. In certain cultures eating the heart or brains of a loved one is a gesture of utmost respect. It symbolizes a desire to take on some of their courage, their strength. I found your actions especially brave today at the restaurant.”

The restaurant. Who called McDonalds a restaurant? But Fraser’s hand was moving lower, warm and slow, and Ray just lay there thinking Fraser couldn’t get any freakier. So here he had launched himself over a table to take down a bad guy ready to cap his partner and Fraser had stood there thinking about ripping his heart out and eating him like some bad jungle movie. Greatness. Most other guys would probably just think about fucking you senseless, which Fraser had already done.

“Do I need to go over to the Consulate and check the freezer there, Benton?”

“Hm.” Fraser bent and swept his tongue across Ray’s jaw. “You taste sugary.”

Ray shook his head on the pillow. He was dreaming this conversation. He was tired and he was dreaming this. Nobody had conversations like this.

He wasn’t dreaming Fraser’s hand though. That was working its way between Ray’s thighs, rubbing lightly over the muscle, which felt good, really good, and Fraser’s mouth slid along his jaw until he was sucking at the skin behind Ray’s ear.

“Of course the desire’s a symbolic one for the most part,” he went on, and “for the most part” wasn’t comforting. Your boyfriend wasn’t supposed to think about eating you. And when had Ray started thinking of Fraser as his boyfriend anyway? That didn’t matter, because Fraser’s tongue was doing some really awesome things along one side of his neck and his fingertips felt real good brushing up and down the length of Ray’s half hard cock. But Fraser wasn’t done. ‘And to be truthful it’s not even a desire stemming from my lifelong connection with the primal world. It’s . . . “ 

His hand moved down, fondling Ray’s balls, and Ray liked the way Fraser touched him there so much he reached down to stroke himself without even thinking about it. Fraser didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed to forget what he was saying a minute ago, laying there with his mouth against Ray’s neck listening to his breathing change as he got harder and more aroused. 

“It’s just that sometimes you – well, I don’t mean this as a criticism, Ray – you sometimes remind me of a . . . a muffin or an apple fritter or a cupcake or . . .”

Ray didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe, because now the real scary shit was coming out. Fraser had gone mushy on him. His hand stopped mid-stroke and he did his best to glare up at Fraser in the dark. “What do you mean ‘muffin’?” If Fraser even tried calling him dumpling he was going to shoot him. No questions asked. No second chances, and . . . “Oohh . . .”

One of Fraser’s fingers slipped down and pressed against him, pushing inside. Ray rolled his hips up a little and spread his legs, stroking himself faster now. And darkness or no darkness he knew Fraser liked watching, because Fraser knew how much he liked him there, so much sex felt empty lately without Fraser inside him somehow.

But Fraser didn’t answer. He went for the oldest avoidance trick in the book and covered Ray’s mouth with his mouth and slipped his tongue inside with the same painfully sweet slowness as the finger working into him. Ray didn’t really care about answers, because that finger curled up and brushed his new best friend that fucking blissful spot inside him, and just as he got into a rhythm rocking his hips and sliding his sweaty fist up and down getting ready to come, Fraser broke off from kissing him and said in this dead serious voice, “You know, Ray, I’m starting to wonder if it’s me you want or simply the attention to your prostate.”

And Ray came, choking out a laugh, because who said a thing like that out loud? And as he lay there afterward practically glued to the sheets by his own sweat he was pretty sure he was going to have to take a break from daytime Fraser and nighttime Fraser both, because between the crazy ideas on the job and the mind blowing sex and the crazy things that came out of Fraser’s mouth there was just no chance Ray wouldn’t lose his mind sometime real soon.


End file.
